Lady _Ara._ It's to be mended, I suppose--Pray, my Lord, one word of fair argument: You complain of my late hours; I of your early ones; so far we are even, you'll allow; but which gives us the best figure in the eye of the polite world? my two o'clock speaks life, activity, spirit, and vigour; your eleven has a dull, drowsy, stupid, good-for-nothing sound with it. It favours much of a mechanic, who must get to bed betimes, that he may rise early to open his shop. Faugh! Lord _Love._ I thought to go to bed early and rise so, was ever esteem'd a right practice for all people. Lady _Ara._ Beasts do it. Lord _Love._ Fy, fy, Madam, fy; but 'tis not your ill hours alone disturb me; but the ill company who occasion those ill hours. Lady _Ara._ And pray what ill company may those be? Lord _Love._ Why, women that lose their money, and men that win it: especially when 'tis to be paid out of their husband's estate; or if that fail, and the creditor be a little pressing, the lady will, perhaps, be oblig'd to try if the gentleman instead of gold will accept of a trinket. Lady _Ara._ My Lord, you grow scurrilous, and you'll make me hate you. I'll have you to know, I keep company with the politest people in the town, and the assemblies I frequent are full of such. Lord _Love._ So are the churches now and then. Lady _Ara._ My friends frequent them often, as well as the assemblies. Lord _Love._ They wou'd do it oftener if a groom of the chamber there were allow'd to furnish cards and dice to the company. Lady _Ara._ You'd make a woman mad. Lord _Love._ You'd make a man a fool. Lady _Ara._ If Heav'n has made you otherwise, that won't be in my power. Lord _Love._ I'll try if I can prevent your making me a beggar at least. Lady _Ara._ A beggar! Crœsus! I'm out of patience--I won't come home 'till four to-morrow morning. Lord _Love._ I'll order the doors to be lock'd at twelve. Lady _Ara._ Then I won't come home till to-morrow night. Lord _Love._ Then you shall never come home again, Madam. [_Exit._ Lady _Ara._ There he has knock'd me down: my father upon our marriage said, wives were come to that pass, he did not think it fit they shou'd be trusted with pin money, and so would not let this man settle one penny upon his poor wife, to serve her at a dead lift for separate maintenance. _Enter ~Clarinda~._ _Clar._ Good-morrow, Madam; how do you do to-day? you seem to be in a little fluster. Lady _Ara._ My Lord has been in one, and as I am the most complaisant poor creature in the world, I put myself into one too, purely to be suitable company to him. _Clar._ You are prodigious good; but surely it must be mighty agreeable when a man and his wife can give themselves the same turn of conversation. Lady _Ara._ O, the prettiest thing in the world.